I Scream, You Scream
by dothesafetydance
Summary: An outsider's glimpse of Clois, season 8-ish.
Sometimes, all Mandy wants to do is gouge her eyes out with a spoon.

It often seems a perfectly reasonable daydream to her, especially when she's gone three hours without speaking to a soul and the radio gets stuck on the country station again.

There are plenty of options; working in an ice-cream shop gives one access to many types of kitchenware. There's the standard scoop, the flimsy sampler, the sturdy spoon. Of course, she could always branch out to other utensils, though she doubts that Jubilee would appreciate a ruined soft-serve churner or a popsicle body in the back freezer.

Macabre? Yes.

Thought-consuming? Also yes.

And that was so much more important.

She leaves her phone in her bag when she gets to work; a couple slashed paychecks to pay for some damages has taught her to do that. (Apparently bosses and customers alike don't appreciate electronics in the goods.)

There's schoolwork and books and such, but Mandy runs into similar problems when she pulls them out. Also they're boring. On really slow days though, she risks it.

That's the problem with living in the middle of Obscurity, Kansas. There are lots of slow days. Frankly, Mandy isn't sure how Jubilee keeps the tiny shop running on so few customers. She's only here after school hours, though. Maybe the lunch crowd is huge.

Fridays and weekends are perfectly busy too; it's just the other weekdays that drive Mandy to the brink of insanity.

However, there is one thing that the week has and weekend doesn't: The Couple.

Smallville's own finest.

Every time she sees them coming, Mandy knows she's in for a treat.

He always opens the door for her; she always barrels through without a thank you. He always orders for both of them; she always complains, but lets him do it anyway. He always tries to pay; she always makes them split.

And that's just them at the counter!

Mandy knows it's bad manners to eavesdrop, but she can't help herself. They're so interesting, especially after three hours with just a semi-broken radio and her pre-calc to keep her company.

They discuss the paper; they debate politics; they talk about their weekend plans; they bash evil corporations; they update each other on their families.

But most of all, they argue.

The Couple argues about everything under the sun. Everything over it, too, if you count that one time with the satellites (which Mandy does).

Mandy was perplexed by them, at first. Why on earth are two people who can't stop bickering going out for ice-cream every odd Thursday?

Soon, however, she started to see it.

They care for each other. The back-and-forth nature of their conversation, rather than a signal of dislike, proves how close they actually are. It's affectionate, knowing; they're like little kids with their own secret language, No Outsiders Allowed.

Mandy notices the smiles and glances he gets when she thinks he isn't looking; she notices the same scenario reversed, too.

Honestly, if it were anyone but her, Mandy would be more than a little bit heartbroken; he's basically a Greek god come to life, and, based on observations from his many visits, has a personality to match.

Mandy's older sister went to school with him; the stories correlate with her assessment.

As for the other half...

She is a whirlwind; Mandy can tell, though they've only had a conversation or two. She's more than just long legs and a pretty face, though she definitely has them. Her words come a mile a minute, $2.50 a pop, and you caught all of that, didn't you?

Tonight, they save Mandy from being Smallville's first Suicide By Spoon.

The bell jingles as he holds the glass door open for her, and Mandy catches the tail end of his companion's latest tirade.

" ...it's ridiculous! It is seriously cursed. Wait-could that be a possibility?"

She stops, processes, dismisses, and continues:

"I wonder who Tess'll hire next. Somebody who keeps me shoved down in the godforsaken basement with you, probably."

"Thanks, Lois."

"Anytime."

"Tess is like that with everyone, you know. She's not out to get you."

"Pfft. You all wish you were important enough to be as oppressed as me! Farmboy, I've been clowning at this carnival a lot longer than you have, and I-"

He's started examining all the flavors during the conversation, taking the time to weigh his options. His partner doesn't even glance down as she talks.

How he manages to listen to and answer her rants while focusing on something else, Mandy has no idea. It's probably a necessity, though.

He makes a decision, stands up straight, and smiles at Mandy. "The lady'll take rocky road; I'll have my usual. Mine in a cone and hers in a cup, please."

Mandy fights the urge to giggle while she fills their order.

"The Lady?" Her voice drips disdain.

He shrugs.

"And what did I say about you ordering for me? I'm perfectly capable of doing it on my own, you know. I don't even want rocky road. I'm feeling something fruit-based right now-"

Her voice immediately cuts off at the sight and smell of the ice-cream placed in front of her.

Gimme gimme! her hungry expression yells, and she slaps a five on the counter. Picking up the waxy paper bowl, she scoops a huge bite, pointedly ignoring his chuckles.

"You were saying, Lois?"

He pays for his own cone and smiles again. "Thanks, Mandy," he says sincerely, turning away with his companion.

She elbows him in the arm. "Your favorite song's on, Smallville," she says, tilting her head back at the still-broken radio near the display. Tim McGraw streams faintly.

Mandy zips around and starts wiping the counter so they don't see her watching them.

The bells jingle again and Mandy hears, "Just because I live on a farm does not mean I enjoy country" before their voices drop out.

She drops her washcloth and shakes her head at the two.

Even if they deny it, The Couple are so totally a couple.


End file.
